The Last Virgin in Texas

by Jennifer Woodhull

  “You’re an angel. I’m seriously not worthy.” He pats my hip and walks over to grab the cup of coffee.

  When he’s done feeding Mr. Chips and I’ve plated up the food, we sit at the dining room table and dig in. He clears his throat as he pours another glass of juice.

  “I have some news about work.” He says it in a way that’s both matter of fact and laced with caution.

  “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

  “I got an email last night. I have to go to LA and do some promos for the new season.” He sets his glass down and meets my eye. “I’ll be working for a couple of weeks. Maybe three.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, we knew it had to happen, eventually.” I shrug, trying to sound as nonchalant as I wanna be.

  Then, an image of last night flashes in my mind, and that familiar rumble is low in my belly. The thought of being without all that orgasmic goodness is devastating. I briefly wonder what the penalties are for kidnapping in the state of Texas, and whether I could tie him to my bed and keep him here forever.

  “Talk to me, Gretchen. Tell me what you’re thinking. We promised each other truth, right?”

  I nod. “Okay.” I blow out a deep breath. “It sucks. I’ll miss you so much. Also, going without sex for two or three weeks might kill me.”

  A big, full laugh rolls over him, making his eyes crinkle and his shoulders shake up and down.

  “You won’t die. Trust me. I’ve gone without far longer than two or three weeks.” He takes another bite of bacon. “You could just come out and stay with me, though.”

  “I don’t think I should leave the diner. I’ve only been back from Denver a few weeks.”

  “You don’t have to come for the whole time. Come for a week, or a weekend…” He casts his glance to the side. “Or, ya know, move in with me.” He snaps his eyes back to meet mine.

  “I’m sorry, say what now?”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Come to LA. Move in with me.”

  I pull back a little and blink. Move in together? I mean, it’s kind of what we’re doing already, but that’s here, in Shiner. I know who the assholes are here. In L.A., I’d have no idea.

  “Say something, Gretchen. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry, I…it’s just that I’ve never even been to LA. I wouldn’t know anybody. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for that life out there.”

  He rests his forearm on the table and looks down, and I feel like a total ass.

  “Tucker, it’s not…it’s just a surprise, that’s all. I’m not saying no. I’m just saying it’s kinda scary and I have responsibilities here, too. It’s a lot to think about.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. In fact, I figured we’d be here when I’m not filming, anyway. Would you like that?”

  I smile and nod as he tucks into another bite of his breakfast.

  “How about this—you can get things lined up here, then come out whenever you’re ready? Stay as long as you want. Check things out. When I’m done with my filming commitments, we can come right back here.” He leans forward and cocks up a brow. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

  I love the goofy, expectant grin on his face. “I say okay. Let’s try it.”

  “That’s my girl.” He winks and my heart pounds in my chest.

  I haven’t seen Tucker in forty-eight hours, and I think I’m already having withdrawals.

  We face timed when he got back to LA. He sends me text messages as soon as he wakes up, and throughout the day telling me what he’s doing and reminding me that he loves me and misses me. Still, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea how hard this would be.

  I grab a couple of pies from the walk-in and take them out to the pie case in the front of the diner.

  Shane stands up from the counter and waves. “Have a good one, Gretchen. See ya tomorrow.”

  “See ya, Shane.” I wave back. That leaves just one customer in the diner—the woman who has been coming in the past couple of weeks.

  Maisie walks out from the kitchen, straightening her uniform. I’ve warned her about foolin’ around with Dodger at work when we’re busy, but when we’re not, I really don’t care. Besides, they’re obviously happy, even though neither of them will tell me what that fancy dinner was about or give me any insights into exactly what it is they’re doing.

  As Maisie wipes down the counter where Shane was sitting, the woman walks up with her ticket in her hand. I smile at her. “Hi. Do you need to pay with a card?”

  We’ve had lots of people pass through since the interview aired. Mostly at the weekends, and I’ve hired a couple of high school kids to do the Saturday afternoon shift since we’re staying open later now.

  This woman is probably in her late thirties, maybe early forties, with ruddy cheeks and thick glasses. She smiles a toothy, wide-eyed grin and nods her head as she hands me the ticket.

  “You’re her aren’t you?”

  “Hm? Oh, Sophia? No, that’s my Mama. I’m Gretchen. Took over the place a few years ago.” I punch the amount into the register and smile. “That’ll be six forty-four.”

  “I mean, you’re the one with Tucker. The one who broke them up.”

  “Uh, well, Tucker’s my boyfriend, but I didn’t break up anyone.” My brows knit together and suddenly I have a tingle across my skin. Something feels very wrong.

  I glance over and Maisie must sense it too because she walks, fast, to the kitchen to get Dodger.

  “Marissa is so perfect. She’s so beautiful and sweet. You made them tell those lies. She’s not really gay. She and Tucker were perfect together, but she was so ashamed after you stole him, she had to lie about it.” The woman hasn’t blinked. Her dark, bloodshot eyes bore a hole through me.

  “You know what? Meal’s on the house. Why don’t you just get on your way now, huh?”

  “You ruined everything. Their babies would have been Hollywood royalty, like the Barrymores, or the Baldwins, but you ruined it. You ruined everything, you selfish cunt.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dodger steps around the counter toward the woman and puts his palms up. “That’s enough of that. Stop it, now. Go ahead and leave before the deputies get here.” He nods at Maisie who runs over to the phone.

  She reaches into her purse and for a moment, I’m truly afraid. I’m afraid she has a gun, or a knife, or something that could hurt me–hurt any of us.

  When she pulls out her hand, it’s covered in something dark.

  “America hates you. You should kill yourself, cunt.”

  Her hand goes forward so fast, I don’t have time to react. It’s all a blur. I feel something soft hit my face and my neck. Dodger grabs her and wrestles her arms behind her, pushing his knee into her back to keep her pinned.

  “Fuck! Babe, are you okay?” Maisie rushes over and wipes my face with the dishtowel in her hand. When our eyes meet, we both know—both realize what it is.

  Shit.

  The woman has literally thrown shit at me.

  “Oh, fuck! What the…get it off! Get it off me!” I fling my hands back and forth, hopping up and down. “Maisie, get it the fuck off of me!”

  She grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the prep room. She strips off my uniform and shoves me forward, over the sink, using the sprayer to rinse off my face and chest.

  “Close your eyes, Gretchen. Let me rinse you down. Hold still.” There’s panic in her voice, even though she’s trying to keep it together.

  I shut everything tight, my mouth, my eyes, while she sprays my face. She hands me a couple of clean towels, and I slump to the floor, blotting my wet face, my hands still shaking.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  I nod and vaguely hear the screen door clang shut, then open again. Maisie has a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in her hands.

  “Slip these on and we’ll go to the clinic and get you checked out, okay?”

  I nod, somewhat catatonic. I slide into the clean clothes while Maisie scoops my uniform into a tras
h bag. She disappears for a moment, then comes back to find me.

  “Dillon’s out front with Jeremy.” He’s one of the other deputies in town. “They have her in the patrol car. Dodger is handling the diner and will lock up. I told Dillon you’d come by and give your statement after we finish at the clinic, okay?”

  I nod my head, still in shock. “That was shit, right? I—I didn’t imagine it?”

  “You didn’t. It was shit. Not sure what kind…or whose, maybe.” She swallows hard, and she looks as green as I feel. “Come on. Let’s get you to the doctor.”

  After the clinic, at which I am subjected to antibiotics and a tetanus shot, and the Sheriff’s office, Maisie takes me home.

  At first, I was in shock. Then, I was scared. When I found out at the clinic that luckily, I was not likely in much danger and that the shots were a precaution; I was relieved. By the time I got home, I was seething with fury.

  I wash my hair four times. I scrub my skin with antibacterial soap and loofah until it’s red, tingling, and raw.

  Dodger must’ve showed up when I was in the shower. When I come out of the bathroom, he’s lounging back on the sofa, a beer in his hand. His hair is wet, so I’m guessing he was as eager to wash off this nasty day as I was.

  “I’m gonna shower too, babe.” Maisie kisses his cheek. “Gretch, can I borrow clothes?”

  “Take whatever fits.” I grab a hard cider and sink into the sofa next to my friend.

  “You were kinda a superhero today, Dodger. Thanks for having my back.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I did what anybody woulda done.”

  There’s a knock at the front door.

  “I got it, Gretch. Take it easy.” He opens the front door and Dillon walks in.

  He walks straight over and crouches down in front of me, putting his hands on my knees. “You okay, Gretchen?”

  “I’m fine, Dillon.” I pat his hand. “Thanks for checkin’ on me.” I nod to the beer in Dodger’s hand. “You still workin’ or you off the clock?”

  “Off the fuckin’ clock.” He walks to the fridge, grabs a beer and makes himself comfortable on the other side of me on the sofa.

  After he takes a long draw on his beer, Dillon looks at me. “Not supposed to tell you this yet, but it’s gonna be in the official record anyway, so who gives a fuck.” He blows out a deep breath. “She had photos of you, Gretchen. Saved from Facebook. Had all kinds of photos and articles about Marissa and Tucker. Magazines, newspapers, you name it. She’s bat-shit obsessed. We’re lucky she didn’t do worse, to be honest.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand briefly before taking another sip of his beer.

  My stomach drops. How the fuck can somebody be so obsessed with people they don’t even know?

  “So, now what happens?”

  “She’ll go to trial, but it’s pretty cut and dry. The restraining order will let us pick her up if she gets out and ever tries to come back to Shiner.”

  I nod, trying to process it all—trying to understand how a total stranger could hate me so much.

  I get up to grab another cider, and when I come back, Maisie is in the living room with the guys. They all stop talking and look when I come back in.

  “What?”

  My phone dances across the table and when I look down, it’s a face time call from Tucker.

  Shit.

  “He knows?”

  “We had to tell him.” Dodger looks at Dillon.

  “Yeah, he stopped by and we talked before he left.” Dillon nods at Dodger. “He made us swear to look out for you. I had to call him, Gretch.” He shrugs, taking another drag on his beer.

  I roll my eyes, grab my phone, and head to my bedroom as I answer his video call.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Tucker’s forehead is creased with worry.

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal,” I lie.

  “It wasn’t a…Gretchen, Dillon said a woman attacked you. How the fuck is that not a big deal?” He’s angry, but I realize it’s not with me.

  “She was just some nut job. He blew it way out of proportion.” He’s supposed to be working, and the last thing I want is for him to worry.

  “Well, I’m cancelling the rest of the appearances and coming home.”

  I hear a disembodied voice from somewhere else in the car say, “The hell you are.”

  Tucker’s attention darts to the side. “Aaron, somebody attacked my girl. I need to be there to protect her.” He looks back at the camera. “Hold on, babe.”

  There’s mumbling back and forth as he holds the phone to his chest, and when I see Tucker again, he looks pissed. “Fuck. It’ll be a week at least. I don’t like you being on your own, Gretchen. Fuck!” His fist connects with the door.

  “Tucker, I’m fine. I’ve got Dodger here—he was great today. Plus Dillon’s here and Maisie. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not enough. They can’t keep you safe.”

  We go back and forth. I get it. He’s angry because he feels helpless. He needs to meet his commitments for work, though, and the last thing I want to be is a distraction.

  “Tucker, listen to me. When you’re with me I want you to be focused on us.”

  He interjects before I can continue.

  “I am. I’m focused on us—on you—right now. I’m worried, baby. If anything happened to you…well, let’s just say I’m not sure I’d look good in an orange jumpsuit.”

  “We both know you’d be damn sexy in a jumpsuit.”

  That makes him smile and I take it as a win. Then, it occurs to me what I can do to put him at ease.

  “My point is, when you’re working, you should be focused on work. I have a business to run, and I’ve already been gone longer than I should. I can’t just not go to the diner every day. I’ll ask Dillon to make sure they ramp up patrols, though, and Dodger will keep an eye on me.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  I blow out a breath and think. “Your parents are here. What if I call and check in with them, too? Would that make you feel better?”

  “I won’t feel better until I can get back to you. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t sign this damn contract. Maybe I should just chuck the whole thing and come home for good.”

  Shit. Would he really do that? Would he give up his whole career and everything just for me?

  “I just hate feeling so…helpless. Listen, baby, we’re at the studio. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later tonight. Just…at least get Maisie to stay with you tonight, okay? I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask her to stay.”

  “I love you, Gretchen.”

  I tell him I love him too, blow him a kiss and say goodbye.

  This day has been so strange. I’d have never imagined I would be attacked in my own diner. Then Tucker tells me he’d consider jeopardizing his whole career just to be with me.

  When I was younger, Mama always warned me that you have to guard your heart, and your body, because men can’t be trusted. She always said men leave when they get what they want from you. She has John, now, though, and he’s a good man. I think Tucker’s a good man, too. I don’t think he’d hurt me on purpose, and the fact that he’s willing to give up so much for me tells me more than his words ever could.

  Dillon and Dodger say goodnight and head out. Maisie settles in on the sofa with Mr. Chips to watch the latest episode of some singing competition. After a stressful day, I do what I always do to relax. I walk into my old room, flip on the lamp, and sit down at the drafting table. I bounce the end of my pen off my lip, considering what I want to paint. As I stare off into space, waiting for inspiration, I see Mama and John’s wedding photo on my bookcase.

  I had such a great visit with them, and I’m glad Mama and I had the chance to really talk.

  I remember what she told me about my father—that he felt helpless. That’s when it hits me what Tucker said. He felt helpless, not being able to protect me.

  I know what I want to draw,
and after I finish, I bring my latest creation into the living room to show Maisie.

  She smiles when she looks at the dark-haired boy with the gold crown, and the little blonde girl with the crooked crown of her own, holding up a sword and shield as she stands in front of the boy with her back to him.

  Sometimes the princess has to save the prince.

  “I love it. But…is everything okay?”

  I sit down beside her and smile. “Yeah, well, things are great with Tucker and me, actually. But there’s somethin’ I wanna run by you.”

  Forty-One

  My Mercedes weaves through mid-day LA traffic as I head to the NBS offices to sign the most lucrative contract of my career. I negotiated with Ryan to get more freedom, a pathway to working behind the camera, and best of all, I’ve gotten him to agree to a more aggressive shooting schedule that will let me spend less time in LA.

  As I pull up to the light on West Alameda Boulevard, I look up at the blue sky of a perfect California day. A Jeep pulls up next to me at the light, and the radio in it blares San Antonio Rose. As the singer croons about lips, so sweet and tender, I feel that familiar tug in my heart.

  Since Dodger called to tell me about what happened at the diner, I’ve hardly been able to think about anything else. I was relieved when Gretchen agreed to having Maisie stay for a few days. Still, I’d rather have her with me…all the time, as a matter of fact.

  It’s not just that I’m worried about her, either. I miss that girl. I miss her laugh, and how she rolls her eyes at me when she thinks I’m being ridiculous. I miss how she sings to herself, sexy and low, while she wipes down the kitchen counter. I miss how she talks to Mr. Chips as if he not only understands her but might actually answer.

  I miss kissing her and holding her in my arms while we drift off to sleep. I miss the way her hair smells when she’s fresh from the shower, and how she purrs with pleasure when I’m buried deep inside her.

  As I pull away from the light, it’s all so damn clear. I don’t want anyone else. Maybe I never really did. All I want is Gretchen.

  When I get to the conference room, Aaron is there along with Ryan. I sit down at the conference table, and Ryan passes the contract across the table.